


Harry Potter and his Hidden Children.

by Its_Paulinaxx



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Gen, Original Character(s), Smart Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 21:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8816782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Its_Paulinaxx/pseuds/Its_Paulinaxx
Summary: A troll, a basilisk, an escaped convict and now a magically binding contract.  A contract binding him to children. What was Harry Potter going to do now?





	1. Chapter 1

She lay before him taking shallow, laboured breaths. Her eyes were closed.  
The young man kneeled next to her had no idea how he had come about this situation, for one moment he was walking back from the shop for his aunt Petunia and the next, he felt a tug, a pull from somewhere behind his navel and was unceremoniously dumped into a broken living room. Harry doubted his family would call for help once they realised he was missing.  
There was blood everywhere. Not his, but the woman's.  
A beast had tore her open, he was sure of that, and the woman was tortured with the cutting curse. Yet it was obvious she had done so to protect the child cowering in the corner. Harry Potter wondered if this was what his mother felt like in her very last moment's, and with a pang of sadness and reached down to clasp her hand. His mother died without anyone to hear her final thoughts.  
"W-what-"  
"Safe. My children. You may be young, but... Hide them away. They will be safe. Two sons and a daughter. Care for them, for me." A slow, golden glow spread over their clasped hands.  
"By the fates, so be it!" An ghostly, echoing voice whispered.  
Her hand fell limp in his. And with that, she was gone and so was the glow.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry officially didn't know what to do. You could say he was in a state of shock. He sat there, on the floor and wondered why strange things happened to him. A troll, a basilisk, an escaped convict and now a magically binding contract. A contract binding him to children. It did not matter he entered unwillingly, he would forfeit his life if he did not abide now. At the tender age of barely 16, he was not ready to become a father, but, alas, the fates had decided he was capable. The golden glow only sealed his fate. 

I suppose this is what Petunia felt, thought Harry, total and utter horror, when she had to take me in. Thinking of how his Aunt Petunia treated him, Harry promised himself he would not do the same if there was no way out of this ludicrous event. Children were not prisoners to be locked up, after all. 

A pitiful sniffle caught Harry's attention. He set his heavy gaze on the child; a girl, a daughter, in the corner. The bites and gashes she previously had were already knitting themselves back together back again. Harry could only stare blankly at her. 

"Mummy... Mum!" Her pained cry brought Harry out of his reverie, the anguished sob only tore his heart apart a little more. 

"Come on, sweetie!" He needed to make sure they were safe. Gently gathering the crying child, he gestured for her to be silent. The next moment or two happened very quickly in Harry's eyes. With his heart racing, Harry pulled his wand out and peeked out of the door. 

Nothing. 

Wishing he had someone, anyone with him to keep the danger away, he set down the hall, pulling the sobbing child after him. A kitchen, a bathroom and finally, a bedroom. 

As gently as he could, he pulled the toddler out of his bassinet and roused the other, older child from slumber. The baby was still asleep, cradled awkwardly in Harry's arm's. All four of them were safe; for now, at least. These were his sons; his children now. Startled, distrustful eyes stared back at him. 

"Come on, quickly and quietly. It's not safe." 

They had to flee, before the beast and the deatheaters returned. Wardrobes, drawers, cabinets were ransacked. Harry worked in a frenzy, packing what these strangers would need for a life with him. He shrunk what he could, mindful that this was another wizard's home and nobody would ever know he was here. There would be no letters expelling him from Hogwarts this year. 

Harry hoped it would bring the children peace to see their own belongings, in Harry's own little home one day. He worked until the early hours of the next morning, leaving nothing unturned. 

The children introduced themselves. Adrian, Suzanne and Elliot. The toddler was only a year old and the twins had just turned 8. They were were quiet children, but Harry reckoned that was because of the trying circumstances. None of them once smiled. 

Injuries were healed, a grave was dug and the body was buried. Harry could do nothing but stand there and hold the two weeping twins by their mother's grave, as the baby slept soundly on. If only Harry could be that young again.


	3. Chapter 3

The sun began to rise just as they stepped off the Knight Bus, with thick cloaks shadowing their faces. There was nowhere else to go but back to Privet Drive, for now at least. Grimmuald Place was not a fit place for anybody, let alone them, for anyone to stay. Harry needed a place to hide, a home really, but he had no idea how Wizard's bought property. Perhaps the goblins could help. He would beg if he had to.

Harry thought he'd struck gold when he realised the back door was open... Only to realise his morning was only made worse when he realised his aunt was waiting for him in their ever pristine living room. Pulling on her dressing gown on with too much force than was really needed, Petunia stalked forward.

"Where on earth did you these- these things!?!" Her long, sharp fingers poked into the little boy none too gently. Glaring, Harry pulled the dozing child out of her grip and hoisted him higher onto his hip. Backing them all up the stairs and into the safety of his room, Harry let out a flimsy excuse of an explanation. 

"I really don't know, it felt like I was portkeyed- I mean teleportported- actually, nevermind. I'm responsible for him and his siblings in the way you were for me, I'm sorry I can't tell you any more. We'll be out of your hair by tomorrow morning, I'll be leaving!" Harry spun around and took the stairs two at a time. He ignored the shouts and insults as best as he could and only focused on the little boy that cuddled himself closer. 

Back in his room, Harry studied his charges Once Again. Would he still have to support the toddler's head? What would they need to be eat? Would they be magical? Would the toddler need to nap? As a thousand and one question flew through his mind, Harry soon realised how little he knew about child rearing. Throwing his head into his hands, Harry groaned. 

The twins sat quietly on his bed, waiting patiently side by side, yet too scared to say anything. Their brother was only now beginning to wake up, stretching his little fists as he did. Harry did nothing more than kidnap them, in the eyes of the law. Perhaps their bond would eventually save him from life in Azkaban. Then there was the problem of Harry's age. He would be able to look after himself, maybe, but what would it be like looking after three other people in the middle of a war?

The war. It suddenly dawned on Harry that he would need to protect these children. Where would he keep them safe during the school term? They were too young to keep themselves safe, but old enough to be taught. Unregistered wands could be found, Harry was sure of it. Unregistered Portkeys, protective amulets, daggers for times when things got hard and bloody. 

"Would you like some breakfast?" It was far too early, just half five, but Harry was ever reminded he had a duty now. As though I hadn't had enough to deal with before all of this, Harry thought bitterly. He was only met with blank, fearful looks. "Watch that Adrian doesn't go onto the landing, the bathroom is across the hall. Then, we'll talk." Glancing at the toddler currently trying to open the drawers of his bedside table, he shrugged. 

As Harry buttered toast and let bacon sizzle, he made plans. Escape plans. Harry was being watched, Hogwarts was guarded (although Harry doubted he would have trouble smuggling three people into the castle; if you knew the school as well as he did, there would be no trouble getting in.) and Diagon Alley was protected. Maybe Dobby, his ever-trusty house elf friend, would help. 

'Care for them,' she had said. Why would a mother want him- a teenage boy and a stranger to boot, looking after her children. He'd have to learn to play this new game, this game of deceit or risk dying. Harry might not have been living in the wizarding world for long but even he knew the consequences of breaking a contract such as this were. Death. Painful, Horrific Death. Harry shuddered. 

They tried to eat silently; Harry didn't know what to say. Suzanne looked like she was about to start sobbing again, Elliot seemed more content to read Harry's discarded school book, rather than eat and little Adrian gnawed at his plastic plate, pieces of food thrown on the floor, forgotten. Harry sighed and began to feed the child his own food. He wasn't hungry. 

"Right. Well, my name is Harry Potter. I don't know how or why, but I guess I'll be looking after you."


	4. Chapter 4

The goblins that urged Harry against his other properties. They were too large, too well known, not warded enough. This one, they said, was just right.

It was a dreary little house, in the dreary little neighbourhood that was Cokeworth, that Harry chose. The outside was overgrown, wild and uncared for. The paint was peeling, the low wall surrounding the property was crumbling and the ancient glass windows were chipped and often let wind through. It resembled all the other houses that it stood shoulder to shoulder to; desolate and abandoned.

The inside was hardly any better. Harry almost regretted moving them into the place that once housed his grandparents, aunt and most importantly, mother. Nevertheless, it was perfect; it had kept them hidden for the last three days. Nobody would look for 'The-Boy-Who-Lived' in such a hovel. 

The open fireplace in the main bedroom of the house kept them warm and merry, with a few cleaning and repairing spells, it was clean and habitable. The other bigger bedroom was turned into a training area. 

Elliot and Suzanne began to unwillingly trust him when they realised Harry could do what their mother was not able to do; keep them safe. They fell into a routine of sorts once they started to train in basic areas of Defence, though it was far from perfect. They were good kids, Harry knew, and would keep themselves and their brother safe when the time came. 

Waking up at dawn was a new concept to Harry. So was caring, cooking and cleaning for such a young child. Harry decided that Adrian, with his rounded cheeks, fluffy blonde hair and little dimples, was quite cute and worth the lack of sleep and took it all in stride. 

Getting ready in the morning of the fourth day after their 'Great Escape', as Harry had dubbed it, Harry could do nothing but laugh about how easy it was to run away. He had thought about it for years, surely. He was free now, free from manipulation and free to do whatever he wanted to. Well. Maybe within reason, Harry thought as he bundled Adrian into his arms for his morning bath. 

True to his word, Harry was gone from Privet Drive the next morning. Perhaps he left in the night, for the moon was still up with no sign of a sunrise, but he left. It was easier than expected, the goblins were more than happy to discuss what properties were available to him. They cared not for the children bonded to him or that it was four in the morning. Dobby had apparated them to Manchester, returned with what little food he could squirrel away and apparated away again.

Although Harry still had no clue about why he was chosen to fulfil this particular task, he found it peaceful. There was an odd, chaotic calm about spending his days training or feeding others or running around after three unruly children. For once in his miserable life, Harry found himself content. Settling Adrian into a highchair beside his siblings, Harry started on his lessons for the day. 

In the years of being Hermione Granger's friend, Harry realised that Magical Theory was important. When you understood how and why something worked and the origin of the spell, it was definitely easier to do the spellwork. Pulling open his textbook, he began to read. Soon, it was time for breakfast yet again. 

Harry winced. How could he have forgotten?

Unwilling to call on Dobby the house else again, who had said that the Headmaster would be alerted if the elves noticed Dobby to disappear frequently, Harry was left with no other choice but to go to the nearest town and buy more food. 

"Why, isn't it Harry Evans! I've been waiting years for Lily's boy to show his face around these parts." A tall, sallow skinned man exclaimed, waving his wrinkled arm out the dilapidated window he stood at. They only made it across the road before they were accosted by this unknown, yet familiar stranger. Harry tucked the twins closer to his legs and pulled the baby higher up on his hip. 

"Yes, sir. Do I know you?" Harry peered, curiosity evident in his green eyes. Perhaps it was this stranger's eyes that were familiar to him, or his short black hair, or maybe even his nose. Harry couldn't put his finger on it.

"You'll know my son, at the school you go to. Come in, come in! I'll explain everything over tea." Cautiously, with his wand tucked up his free arm, (the other held Adrian, who was pulling on Harry's hair and imitating a car quite happily), Harry pushed the gate aside. 

Elliot and Suzanne followed, unaware of Harry's internal struggle. Constant Vigilance, Harry snorted to himself, so much for following his own rules.The stranger threw his door open with another exclamation of excitement.

"What's your name, sir?" Reaching out to shake the man's hand, which was returned vigorously, Harry berated himself for being so stupid. This was probably nobody, nobody important at least. All of Harry's family were dead. He wasn't here to make friends with lonely neighbours who once knew his mother. 

"Toby, my child. Tobias Snape. You'll know Severus, of course, who was friends with your mother since they were in nappies." Suddenly, it clicked. He had moved in across the street from Severus Snape's father. 

Harry was tired of surprises. Absolutely and definitely exhausted.


	5. Chapter 5

"Yes, you could say I was familiar with Professor Snape." Harry winced. It was beyond Harry who didn't know of the man's acidic and downright mocking disposition. Standing before the Potion Master's father was just unnerving. "Although, I'm afraid we can't come in, we're on our way to town. Would you be able to point us in the right direction?" 

"Nonsense, I'll walk you - just let me put my shoes on. Now, who might these little tykes be? Cousins, Petunia's kids? Not your own, obviously." He laughed at his own joke. This man, Tobias, was like a breath of fresh air compared to his son. Energetic, nosy but kind. Toby hobbled down the lane, tugging a shoe on. 

There were many holes in the cracked pavement and even more on the road. Harry never related so well to a piece of paving before that moment, that was for sure.

Unlike Harry, Tobias seemed unaware of how shabby his surroundings were. Harry, who had always lived in a clean and presentable home, was unaware that places of such poverty existed. Had his mother been bothered by the sorry state this village found itself in? How many children lived in such poor conditions? Ah. Children. 

What would Harry tell him? He would need to research the bond before he told anyone, that was for sure.The truth would surely make it's way back to the ears of the teachers at Hogwarts. Then they would come hammering at his door sooner or later, probably in the form of the wizened Headmaster or gigantic Keeper of the Keys and Grounds, dragging him back to his relatives. Just like every other year. Or even worse; Azkaban.

"I don't know how I'd explain it all to you."

"Maybe a story for another day, then. I would have been your great uncle and one of your godfathers, you know, had your mother survived your war. Not that we're related by blood, mind, but my wife and I would have loved the chance to dote on Lily's only child. The war ruined everything like that." Tobias seemed to talk a mile a minute as he led their party down Spinner's End and to a lane to the right. "Horrible business, it was-" 

"It still is." Harry grumbled. "The war has started again. Voldemort never truly died."

"Sorry to hear that, my boy. Can't be easy for you, being targeted by that Voldemort bloke." Harry shrugged, shifting Adrian's weight to his other arm. 

"Is that the bad wizard that killed mummy and daddy?" Suzanne asked. With a sad nod, he ruffled her hair.

"No, I guess it's not." He didn't want to think of their lifeless bodies, he wouldn't. 

"Then, of course, Halloween happened and we never saw you again. I wrote to your Headmaster, to no avail, to point out that you had two sets of Godparents, me and my late wife included and you were with neither. Even Severus didn't know where you were!" Harry blinked. 

It was of no surprise to Harry that he didn't know vital information like that; nobody ever spoke about his mother's side of the family. Even sadder to say, he was used to authority figures withholding information for the 'greater good' and 'his safety', even if it meant Harry lost any potential family he could find. 

"I was never told that, sir." Harry said. "Do you speak to Professor Snape often?" Tobias let out a bitter laugh in response. 

Gazing around, Harry noted the factories in the distance. One was chugging thick, black smoke into the greying sky and the others were seemingly abandoned. The polluted landscape was unlike the countryside Harry imagined his mother had grown up in, back in his cupboard. 

"No, I can't say I do. Our Severus was always headstrong and didn't stay around long to see our disappointment in his less-than-stellar choices. After all, we didn't raise him to join some magical terrorist group. The last time I heard from him was the month before your second birthday; he couldn't find you or Petunia either, though I have my doubts at how hard he searched. I've tried to keep in contact with him, but he just hides away in that old castle. A shame, really." 

"I'm sorry to hear that, sir." Harry said. 

"Pay no attention to an old man's rambling, my boy. How's school?" The question made Harry laugh. 

How was school? Harry thought sarcastically. Hogwarts Castle had been first true home, but now it was a tarnished home at best. He hated all of it. The looks, the fights with petty schoolyard enemies and above all, the constant battle to seem normal. The Prophesy and Sirius' untimely death weighed heavily on Harry's thin shoulders. 

"Unpleasant, sir. There's not been a year someone hasn't tried to kill me."

"Really?" Tobias asked in disbelief. 

"Yes, really." Harry's quick, morbid grin had Tobias frowning in worry. It seemed unlikely, but it was Harry's life. Tobias stayed silent after that. 

Up ahead, Harry could see a sparse gathering of shops and maybe even a post office. There was a pause in the conversation as Tobias stopped to greet curious onlookers. 

Harry scoffed at the attention, before turning back to the twins. Suzanne's ponytail, something Harry felt like was one of his greatest accomplishments as of yet, didn't lay on the crown of her head perfectly. Harry sighed. 

"Would you like to go to the park, after your lessons?" 

"Can we push Ade on the swings again?" Elliot asked, reaching up onto his tiptoes so his younger brother could grab ahold of his finger. Suzanne nodded eagerly.

Harry thought back to the day before and to the joy on Elliot's face when he successfully cast his first spell. Elliot was faster to disarm Harry, but his sister was close behind. Ministry be damned; they would be safe. Harry only hoped he himself would come out of the war unscathed. Alive, even.

"I don't see why not. We'll go after supper, yeah?" He was content with the happy nods he received in return.  
How do you even talk to anyone younger than the age of ten, Harry pondered silently. With nothing else to say, Harry turned and to wait for their newfound friend. 

There was no reason not to trust Tobias. He seemed genuine as could be, if not a bit hare-brained. Harry could find a family in Tobias, as impossible as that seemed. Harry daydreamed of peaceful days and a cosy home to return to. As he stood at the roadside, with a baby cuddled to his side and a hand clasped in his, he let his mind wander. 

Harry sighed again. One wrong word to the wrong person would have disastrous results. Daydreams would get him nowhere.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry could see the shimmering blue-green of the wards behind the windows, even though twilight was long gone. It was an eerie glow, one only Harry could see. His mother's own wards still held their own and although the house was still on many maps and the floo network, it was heavily protected. 

Attacks on muggles and wizard's alike were increasing. The Daily Prophet reported gruesome details, now that Voldemort outed himself in the Ministry of Magic. A family of three were found dead in their beds not too far from the Exmoor National Park. Not too far from Cokeworth. Harry shuddered. 

He crossed the road in long strides, through the open gate and hammered on the peeling door. Harry nervously tapped his fingers on his thigh and looked back at his mother's house. Harry felt guilty for leaving the house, but the children would be none the wiser tucked away in their shared bedroom, asleep.

Harry needed answers. Answers about his family, their friends and the war. Answers about what part Severus Snape played in his life and where Snape's father wanted to come into it. 

Snape was a difficult character to judge, Harry had decided. He grudgingly taught children that he had risked his life for, time and time again. Even Harry, even if Snape was unable to meet the boy's eyes, was spared pain and misfortune whenever he was around.

The door opened a sliver, jostling the safety chain, before opening fully. Tobias' beaming face met his strained one. His smile fell and his warm, black eyes searched for something; anything in Harry's own. 

"Can we talk?" 

"You'd better come in, then. I'll put the kettle on." Tobias said. 

The books in their bookcases were interesting, to say the least. A mix of tattered school books and yellowed potion journals, a few in which Harry had no doubt that he'd be reading throughout his sixth year at Hogwarts. Interesting looking charms and defence books.

The muggle novels beside their magical neighbours seemed ordinary.

The sheer amount of photographs on the wall surprised Harry. Where there was not a bookcase heaving under the strain of it's load, there was a photo of various family members. Standing to take a closer look, Harry was surprised to recognise a few.

The Snape as a happy trio at the seaside, his mum, the Headmaster presenting certificates, even himself in a moving portrait soon after what must have been his birth. This man, Tobias, had truly seen his mother grow up.

The delicate clink of pottery against the oak coffee table brought Harry out of his reverie. Harry sank into the armchair opposite Tobias. 

"Will you swear to keep my secrets as my own?" Harry questioned. It was risky business; playing around with bonds and vows. They held weight in both worlds. 

"I swear." 

"As you know, there is a war on." Harry said, unsure of how to start. Tobias nodded slowly. 

"From what I gathered; you'll be their savior."

Harry scoffed. He had noticed that most Wizards would rather have someone else deal with their problems than dealing with it themselves. 'The Chosen One', indeed.   
It was difficult to stay optimistic about a war that revolved solely around his death. It was even more difficult to stay optimistic about the fact that everyone expected him to survive.

"It'll be me or him, in the end. It was decided before I was even born." Harry answered quietly. Tobias' eyes widened, a tense silence followed. 

Harry noted that if Tobias grew his hair out and practiced a permanent frown, he and his son would look mostly alike. It was almost amusing. 

"They are training you, in self-defence and whatever spells you lot have, aren't they?" Harry had often wished for it, especially during the Triwizard Tournament. 

"They're not - I'll be training myself until they find me here or when I go back to school." Harry grinned. He would dissappear the Christmas, Easter and next summer too.

"They're not?" Tobias echoed. "That's barbaric!" 

"I think I'm doing a fine job by myself, anyway. I'm learning from books and journals, it's not bad going." Harry shrugged. It helped now that he had more reasons than Sirius' death to finally grow up. He had been stuck with three kids and no way to defend himself. It was different now.

"I'll help; of course. I may be as muggle as they come but at least you'll have some form of teacher." 

"Would that even work?" Harry was sceptical. 

"I don't see why not! Learning magic isn't all about the wand waving, after all. I taught my Severus to be apparate."

A fresh pair of eyes would be a welcome change; when Harry decided he would take more care with his studying back in June, he had told nobody. However, Tobias surely had an ulterior motive or something to gain from... This.

"Why are you being so helpful? You don't know me!" Harry demanded

"No, no I don't. I don't know my son either, because I failed him. I won't fail someone who would have been a godchild of mine. Not this time around." Tobias said. 

"Why didn't mum make you my godfather from the beginning?" He asked. It was a curious question that Harry couldn't answer. 

"She and James were concerned about my safety. Sirius could defend himself; me, not so much. How is he, by the way?" Tobias said. 

"Dead." Harry sat with his eyes closed, deflated. Too many people were willing to give their lives up for him. 

"Whose side is your son on?" Harry wondered aloud. 

"That's a question I couldn't fully answer. At the time before your birth, I believe he regretted joining that Terrorist group. After, he was so angry and grief-stricken that it could have pushed him back. But now, after so many years, I couldn't possibly tell you."


	7. Chapter 7

In such a tranquil, undisturbed place, Harry felt unbearably trapped. 

The stars above him, spinning and warping, cast the moor in a yellow glow. The glow in turn cast shadows all around him. He was free, unattached and had an unlimited amount of things he could do. 

With nobody to rule over him for the next few weeks, he should have been unbeatable. 

Instead, he wept. Harry wept for his parents, godparents, the friends he had lost and the friends he had never been able to make. He wept for how strong he would have to be. 

It felt wrong of him to be sitting there, crying when so many other people had it worse than him. However, out of the few people he was close to and trusted; there was nobody on such a rocky path but him. What a shame really, perhaps they could have compared notes.

As his sniffles died away, Harry gazed around where he had run off to. There was nothing particularly distinguishable about the clearing around him. The grass grasped between his fingers felt dead, the river that ran nearby was filthy with debris.

It was an interesting place he had found himself; that was for sure. It seemed to be simultaneously both day and night. The feel of the magic in the air was almost tangible, choking and suffocating. 

Pulling himself up, he meandered. It was as though his legs were not his own and he was a helpless passenger. Panic clawed at his throat. No, no- he didn't want to do this! Why was he here? 

It was an old tree, covered it's many knots and littered with carvings. He fought to reach the tree, desperately trying to drag himself closer. So familiar, so foreign at the same time. 

Where was he? 

Before he could realise what had happened, the moor collapsed around him into nothing. 

It was all gone. Gone. 

Harry stared at floating dust bunnies until he became aware of two things. One, there was a distant whimper in the cot next to his bed. Two, he couldn't seem to shake the curious feeling that that dream was important. Important to what, he had no clue.


End file.
